The Red Keep, King's Landing
Night had deepened. Only torches flickered and burned in the corridors of the Red Keep.
When Aemond walked in, he was drenched from head to toe.
His long silver hair clung to his face, and his Valyrian-steel-infused plate was covered in scorch marks and dragon blood.
He walked slowly, every step heavy.
Vhagar was injured, and Morghul was injured, but they could still fly.
While he was in the air, only one thought had occupied his mind: Rhaenyra was not dead.
He had leveled the Dragonstone fortress, killed over a hundred people, and slain Rhaenys, but the source of the chaos, Rhaenyra, was still alive.
She lived. She rode Syrax. He could have pursued her, but Daemon had arrived, Silverwing had arrived, and Vermithor had followed.
He had no choice but to leave.
Alicent was pacing inside the Great Hall of the Red Keep.
She had waited all night. From yesterday until now, she didn't know exactly what she was waiting for, but she couldn't sleep, couldn't sit still; she had to pace back and forth.
Aelinne was there too. The Queen sat in a chair, her face pale, hands clutching her stomach. She didn't speak, but her eyes were fixed on the door.
Helaena was not present; she was pregnant, and Alicent had sent her to rest earlier.
Footsteps echoed. Alicent looked up.
"Aemond!"
The Dowager Queen rushed over, looking her son up and down.
She saw the dragon blood on him, his wet hair, and the exhaustion etched into his face.
Her heart tightened. "Are you hurt? How are you?"
"Rhaenys is dead," Aemond answered calmly.
Alicent froze. "What?"
"Rhaenys," Aemond repeated.
"My aunt. She is dead. I killed her."
Alicent's hands slowly dropped. She looked at her son, her gaze as complex and deep as a dark pool of water.
"Rhaenys..." she murmured.
"She was your own aunt..."
Aemond said nothing. He simply stood there.
Aelinne rose from her chair and approached. Her face was even whiter than Alicent's; her eyes held fear, expectation, and far too much more.
"Aemond," she began, her voice trembling.
"Aegon? Did Aegon return with you?"
Aemond glanced at the Queen.
"Aegon?" His brow furrowed.
"Is he not in King's Landing?"
Alicent and Aelinne both froze simultaneously. In that moment, time seemed to solidify.
"He... he went to Rook's Rest," Alicent said, her voice airy and distant.
"He wanted to lead the army personally. He said he wanted to fight by your side."
Aemond's expression changed drastically.
Silence. A deathly silence.
"What did you say?"
His voice dropped so low it was chilling.
"He went to Rook's Rest..." Alicent repeated tremulously.
"He left yesterday morning, riding Sunfyre. He said he would fight alongside you..."
Aemond took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Seconds later, he opened them and looked out the window.
Outside was a King's Landing under curfew; the pitch-black night allowed him to see nothing.
"I didn't go to Rook's Rest," he said.
Alicent didn't understand.
"I went to Dragonstone," Aemond stated indifferently.
"I had Morghul circle above Rook's Rest to draw their attention. I took Vhagar and launched a surprise raid on Dragonstone."
He paused. "Aegon was not part of my plan."
Alicent's face turned completely white.
"Then... then what about Aegon?" Aelinne's voice shrieked, piercing the silence.
Aemond was silent for a while. In that instant, many images flashed through his mind: the sky over Rook's Rest, the dragons of Rhaenys and Daemon, and Sunfyre, that poor golden dragon struggling helplessly under the pincer attack of two great beasts.
"If he went to Rook's Rest to join the battle," Aemond answered coldly, "then he faced Daemon and Rhaenys."
"Where is Aegon?" Aelinne choked out.
"Two dragons," Aemond continued.
"Sunfyre cannot beat Meleys, and he certainly cannot beat Caraxes."
He paused. "He is perhaps dead. Perhaps."
"NO!" Queen Aelinne screamed, soul-shattered. She clutched her stomach, stumbling backward until she leaned against the wall.
Tears erupted like a dam breaking, unstoppable.
"Impossible... impossible... he can't be dead..."
She slid to the floor, covering her face with her hands, her whole body shaking.
Alicent stood rooted to the spot, trembling. She remembered her eldest son, Aegon II, before he departed.
She had asked, "Why must you go?" Aegon had replied, "This is my own decision; it has nothing to do with Aemond."
Her son's eyes had been so bright, so determined.
It was the first time Alicent had seen her decadent, cold eldest son begin to look like a King.
She should have been happy for him. She should have supported him.
But she should have stopped him. She should have fought to stop him.
Yet she hadn't.
"It is my fault..." Dowager Queen Alicent murmured, tears beginning to flow.
"It is my fault... I should have stopped him. I should have..."
Aemond looked at Alicent with a complex expression.
"Mother."
Alicent raised her head, looking at him through blurred, tearful eyes.
"I didn't know he would go," Aemond said, his voice remaining calm.
"I gave orders for him to stay in King's Landing."
Alicent stared at him. A surge of anger and blame, the instinct to find someone to bear the weight of this pain, welled up.
"Why didn't you explain it to him clearly?"
Her voice rose like a mountain peak.
"Why didn't you tell him you were going to Dragonstone? If you had told him, he wouldn't have gone to Rook's Rest!"
"It's all your fault."
Aemond was silent for a second, then said calmly, "Now, he has paid the price for his own choice."
"He is your brother!"
"He is a fool."
Alicent was stunned. "What are you saying?"
"I said," Aemond spoke every word distinctly, "he is a fool."
Alicent shook with rage. She rushed forward and raised her hand to slap him.
Aemond caught his mother's hand and looked at her quietly.
The hand stayed frozen in mid-air. Alicent looked into his eyes, into that young, scarred face, and whispered, "Is this how you treat your brother? He might be dead, and you speak of him like this?"
Aemond looked at her calmly.
"I have never failed him. Did I not tell him to stay in King's Landing? Did I not order him not to join the battle?"
The Dowager Queen had no answer.
"He went of his own accord," Aemond continued calmly.
"He chose to lead the army; he chose not to trust me."
He paused. "And now, you blame me?"
Alicent opened her mouth but found no words.
She couldn't truly blame Aemond; this was a twist of fate, a tragic misunderstanding.
Tears continued to roll down her face. Aelinne wept in the corner, her cries sporadic and broken.
Footsteps sounded at the door. Helaena walked in.
She was in her nightrobe, her pregnant belly prominent, her face pale.
She had evidently been awoken by the noise, or perhaps she hadn't slept at all. She had heard everything from behind the door.
She walked forward step by step until she stood before Aemond.
She reached out and hugged him gently. Her hands were shaking.
Aemond paused for a moment. He could feel her heartbeat through the rounded belly and his drenched clothes; it was beating rapidly.
He raised his hand and patted her back gently.
"I am fine," he whispered.
Helaena buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his clothes.
She didn't cry aloud; she just shook, holding him tightly. She was afraid of losing him.
"They hate me, let them hate me," Aemond said.
"I never cared."
Helaena didn't speak; she only held him tighter.
Alicent looked at them, and a strange feeling suddenly welled up in her heart. She had two sons.
One was likely dead. One stood here, covered in blood, drenched in cold rain.
Who should she blame? Who could she blame? They were both her sons.
Both born of her. Both were raised by her.
Aemond released Helaena and turned toward the door.
"Aemond," Alicent spoke, her voice raspy.
"Where are you going?"
"To see if that fool is actually dead or not."
Alicent took a step to follow. Aemond stopped but did not turn back. Alicent looked at him, hesitant to speak.
"Rhaenys..." she finally said, her voice very soft.
"She was your own aunt. Perhaps you think killing bastards isn't kinslaying, but now, the Seven Kingdoms will view you as a kinslayer. The Lords will loathe you..."
Aemond turned his head to look at her. He knew his mother was a faithful follower of the Seven. He smiled.
It wasn't a cold smile or a bitter one; there was exhaustion, helplessness, and an indefinable pride within it.
"Mother," he said.
"I am a Targaryen."
Alicent froze.
"Targaryen," Aemond repeated.
"If my hands are not stained with blood, how is Aegon supposed to sit securely upon the Iron Throne?"
Alicent opened her mouth but could say nothing. Aemond turned and continued to walk out.
"Aemond!"
It was Helaena. She caught up and grabbed his hand. Aemond turned back.
Helaena looked at him through blurred, tearful eyes, shaking her head desperately.
"Don't go," her voice trembled like a leaf in the wind.
"Don't go anymore. Please, I'm afraid..."
Aemond looked at her. He looked at her rounded belly, carrying their child.
He looked at the tears on her face, shimmering under the hall's candlelight. He was silent for a while.
Then he reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Helaena stared at him.
"I can't turn back now," Aemond said.
"I will do my best to win this war. Even if I die, I will."
He paused. "I promise you."
He gently released her hand and walked out the door.
-----
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